


H.P L.O.V.EFrisk

by Akumokagetsu, licoricebrightwater



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Authors have issues, Bloodborne inspired, Body Horror, Bondage, Both identify as girls though, Chocolate, Cinnamon Roll Frisk, Cinnamon Roll Papyrus, Cute Frisk, Dadby, Dark, Dominant Chara, Dominant Sans, Drinking, Drugs, Everyone Has Issues, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Frisk Has A Horror Fetish, Frisk Has Issues, Frisk is a Monster...sorta?, Frisk is a Sweetheart, Frisk is an experiment, Fuku is adorable, Gender Identity, Homunculi, Kinky, Lotsa gay stuff, Lovecraftian Monster(s), Masochist Frisk, Momdyne, Morally Ambiguous Gaster, Nightmare Fuel, Nyarlathotep - Freeform, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Frisk, Possessive Sans, Protective Sans, Psychological Horror, Sans Has Issues, Sans Is A Little Too Comfortable With That, Sans Is A Terrible Role Model, Sans Is Really Fucked Up, Sans Needs A Hug, Sexual Identity, Silent Hill Inspired, Smoking, Sociopathy, Submissive Frisk, Terror, Terrorfluff, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Trainwreck of a plot, Trap Chara, Trap Frisk, Traps, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Violence, butt stuff, cosmic horror, graphic depictions of sex, like...lots of traps, mild homophobia, sinful, torture the cinnamon roll
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-11 12:39:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15315699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumokagetsu/pseuds/Akumokagetsu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/licoricebrightwater/pseuds/licoricebrightwater
Summary: Desperation can make people do insane things, such as summon something that don't understand from a book they don't know the origin of.Nobody knows who did it or exactly why, but after they summoned a monstrous creature from beyond space and time, the veil between worlds was torn. Now the last few monsters and humans fight to survive in a world growing ever more hostile and strange. In this world, W.D Gaster struggles to create something that will truly make a difference, when one of his homunculi experiments actually survives. He's not sure what to do with it, knowing only that it's important... and he knows that he has an emotionally-challenged skeleton who would be the perfect subject for this new experiment.Who knows, they may even do something remarkable.An idea created by two easily distracted authors with not enough sense, not enough restraint, a love of Bloodborne, Lovecraft, Undertale, kinda fucked up pseudo-bdsm relationships and traps. Yes this will feature femboy/trap Frisk and CHara but they identify as female and act and look super girlish. Because Aku and I are just the worst.What the fuck is this mess anyways?





	1. The Skeleton and The Homunculus

Drifting pale rain fell in silent mists around him dancing down through the night sky and painting the city in beautiful dark shades. Sans let out a breath through his nostril bone, a blank smile on his face. There was no purpose to wear the thing, he wasn’t even around anyone else and had no reason to keep up appearances, but it felt more comfortable than having no expression. He was a bit too used to that. His grin widened as he spotted something from the alley where he lurked, watching as the stumbling figure trundled through the dark, bloated body swollen with unspeakable things. He gripped the worn silver pistol in his duster jacket, the handle cool and scraping against his phalanges. Scratches and divots across the handle and barrel spoke of years of use, it was an artifact at this point, but Sans liked it. Gaster had modified it for him more than once, and it had saved his bone bacon on more than one occasion. He was low on bullets after this particularly long night, but he still had enough for handling the rest of these freakish things. And on his way home, if any of them were stupid enough to get in his way while he was out of bullets, he’d pistol whip them to death.   
  


And he’d do it with a smile on his face, too.   
  


Maybe that was why they seemed to be thinning out as the moon waned. The creatures were starting to learn to stay out of his way. He knew it wasn’t true, but it was a nice thought.

 

He was a rare monster, a monster that could utilize magic properly, ever since those blighted… things started appearing some two hundred years ago, Monsters had been slowly losing their magical abilities.

 

That wasn’t to say that monsters were losing magic, not true at all; they were composed of the stuff, but their ability to call upon it was… well, not weakening as much as it was being dampened. Magic became more taxing to perform, some higher level spells were simply no longer possible without draining oneself to dust and-

 

His introspection was cut off when the creature screeched at him and he sighed, lifting the pistol from its spot next to his chest. It was…  _ ugly _ , but that was a given, considering. It looked… vaguely male? At least it probably was, once upon a time. Sans almost felt a pang of something for the dumb looking creature. Almost.

 

Judging by the level of mutation and decay, the creature was a few months old, not smart enough to figure out a strategy more complex than running its prey down. It had bandy little legs, thin and wiry that didn’t look much use for anything at all, but it made up for them in numbers, having four total that burst out of its hips, though the gangly things kept getting in each other’s way, resulting in an unsteady and inconsistent gait. Sans’s grin remained as he watched it stumble ignorantly toward him, his grip on his revolver growing tighter.

It had a wide gaping jaw, more fit for shoveling food into its mouth than chewing, and as such, it had these odd backward-facing bone fragments jutting crudely out of its jaws, probably the closest the thing could actually get to having proper teeth. He was getting twitchy, the more he did this the more it happened, but the lack of rampant emotions made it much easier to focus on the task at hand and bide his time.

 

Its front arms were thick but with long, bony fingers, creating this confusing image, the palms were meaty and thick but the digits themselves were spindly, so it suggested the creature had evolved out to pound its prey into submission, then shovel it wholesale into its mouth and into the sagging, distended belly dangling beneath it.    
  
Last were the eyes, which were entirely missing and instead replaced with long fleshy tendrils that made the skeletal monster think of some sort of underwater plant, with long wobbling tendrils protruding from ruined eye sockets, the tips glowing softly. It looked like it could detect light and movement but likely couldn’t discern what it was it was detecting, so it would amble after anything and shove it into its mouth.

 

Mindless feeding.

 

Finally, there was the source of all of this rampant, hideous mutation...a bulbous bulge along the neck and upper spine, the flesh around the cocoon cracked and leaking some kind of golden fluid that smelled like rotten eggs and meat. Inside that thick tube of flesh was a parasite...Sans idly wondered if this had been some homeless idiot who had gotten so hungry he had actually eaten a fish or had he drank water that hadn’t been filtered...or just some unlucky bastard who just had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

It didn’t matter now.

 

And to think...this thing used to be  _ human. _  Well, the operative phrase was ‘used to be’, it certainly couldn’t be described as that now. The skeleton lifted the gun, pulling the hammer back with a soft click.

 

The creature twitched and turned towards him, its optical tendrils glowing blow and green… then red and it screeched, a wet, ugly noise that was half scream, half gagging choke and it charged. The damned things were fast, scary fast when they wanted to be, though entirely uncoordinated.

 

Sans fired, his round missing the target and biting into one of the shoulders, blowing off a huge chunk of skin, rotten blood and muscle pouring out of the gaping injury and still the thing charged.

 

He fired again, taking a half step back, this time the bullet struck the face, meat, bone and blood fountaining into the air, revealing a skull that dripped with that rank golden goo and small yellow tendrils that waved about uselessly. Mildly repulsed, Sans took a step back as the thing refused to die - it was lasting a bit longer than the usual grunts did.

 

“Shit,” The skeleton monster hissed and fired again, the bullet striking the bottom jaw and blowing it in half, the dangling mouth pieces flapping about, leaving a trail of saliva and...other fluids he didn’t want to think about.

 

“Fucking…,” Sans’ left eye lit up with a brilliant azure flame and he gave his arm a jerk, sending bone spikes bursting from the cobblestone and ripping into the creature’s left arm, skewering it and sending the creature into an undignified flop. Though it hurt the beast, the...thing didn’t really acknowledge the pain and was more surprised than anything else. He knew almost immediately that he shouldn’t have resorted to magic as the immense strain left him lightheaded and dizzy...

 

But it gave Sans the moment he needed to line up his shot and fire.

 

The front of the skull exploded, and then the top of the neck, the skeleton was lucky that the thing was hunched over, most of them were due to the rampant mutation, which their spines couldn’t support.

 

The bullet tunneled through the fleshy cocoon on the neck and ricocheted off a rib, flying out through the side in a spray of gore, the monstrosity collapsing into a violent twitching.

 

Sans sighed and ambled up next to it, its arms still weakly spasming as it tried futilely to claw at him in hopes of stuffing his body into the ruined gullet, Sans ignored it and stepped up behind the creature, pointing the pistol down at the swollen sack on the back of the neck and fired three times.

 

Each impact was rewarded with one of those wet, squelching screeches, and then the thing went still. He knew that if the human mind inside was still capable of rational thought, it probably would have thanked him.

 

Not that he really cared.

  
  


“Whew,” Sans said jovially, reloading his revolver with what few bullets that he had left. “Always feel a bit drained after I  _ blow my load _ , but it looks like ya took it like a champ, buddy.”   
The thing responded by gurgling tainted blood out of its gaping wounds, splattering the ground as it bubbled. Sans’s constant smile drooped slightly as he tucked the newly loaded pistol back into the inner pocket of his duster, the pooling blood beginning to slither underneath his polished shoes.

 

“... I really am sorry, pal,” Sans added quietly. “I mean, I don’t really feel much for ya - or anything, for that matter,” he continued as he leaned against the cracked stone walls, watching as more of the parasite-laden shamblers wandered directly toward the noise. “But I don’t think anybody deserves ta be like that. But, hey!” he threw out his arms cheerfully, left eye socket going bright blue as infested creatures swarmed screaming unholy shrieks toward him. “Look at it this way; you’re about to get a  _ lot _  more company when your pals join ya in the fuckin’ afterlife!”

 

Cackling maniacally, Sans yanked out his revolver and began firing with renewed vigor, the steadily reddening moon keeping silent vigil the entire time.

 

0-0-0-0-0

  
  


"...It's a failure" Gaster frowned.   
  
In all truth, this division of the science wing was poorly funded and he had to admit; with good cause. Experimental weaponry had churned out very little in useful products, though there was the occasional breakthrough, it was by and large seen as Gaster's "hobby room", and as long as he kept churning out more useful and well...more conventional weapons and methods of assisting the fight against The Abominations, they would continue to fund and tolerate his hobby.   
  
The scientist was currently staring at a tank, within it was floating a little specimen. On the surface, it looked like a human but it absolutely was not, it was a homunculus, his latest attempt to weaponize DT. He knew DT had amazing potential but he hadn't quite got its use right yet, and this… failure was the latest evidence to that.    
  
It was born genetically flawed, neither male nor female but existing somewhere in the middle, with a body overloaded with DT and a soul that was frankly confusing to look at; blood red but upside down, a complete contradiction to everything they knew about souls.

Too bad the rest of the homunculi experiments never lasted more than a few seconds outside the tanks. If mass produced they could make excellent cannon fodder in the resistance. They had hoped the same thing about the humans, and, well...   
They didn't last long, either.

 

Gaster tapped a finger bone against the glass, watching as the... thing twitched in his (in her?) amniotic fluid, eyes closed peacefully with a strange expression on its face. He desperately wanted to study these things further, if done properly they might even hold the key to keeping what few humans were left from extinction. But then again, monsters weren't exactly having an easy time of things either ever since that damnable infection had begun to spread, neither race was safe. Perhaps monsterkind would be better off without the fleshy creatures.   
However, as he inspected the homunculus through the thick glass, his omnipresent smile twitching upwards as it began to shift and wriggle, he had to admit... human types could be remarkably strong when they absolutely needed to be, sometimes even more so than monsters.   
This new one would be fun to learn from.

  
If it even fucking survives, he thought sardonically to himself as he sipped from his chipped old work mug of coffee, the Torchwood company logo printed and scarred on the side from the fire. Gaster prodded over his clipboard yet again, habitually clicking his phalanges together and expecting results, always, always disappointed. Magic had been... difficult for monsters ever since the infection took hold, whatever the hell it was. It had made magical exertion a severe problem for literally all monsters, and those that relied on it too much... they fared about as well as the human fodder.

 

Well...better now than never.   
  
Gaster reached out and gripped a lever, and pulled, draining the tank of its fluid, he was fully expecting the thing to vomit blood or convulse and drop dead...or explode, one had exploded, that had been...traumatizing. But he had pressed on, and now...this one. He sighed and waited, mumbling to himself as the fluid emptied into the drain in the bottom of the tank.   
  
It was all so difficult, he was missing something, he knew that much but what? What was it? It was all so maddening, he felt like he was on the brink of something important, it was just-   
  
The homunculus yawned and sat up, rubbing its eyes with a pair of pudgy hands before it stood up slowly and made an odd gurgling noise.   
  
Yup...here it came...the blood, the vomit, the giggling...wait, giggling?

 

"... Hello," Gaster knelt before it with what he hoped was a warm smile. Unfortunately, most people that he had tried it on had informed him that it was, to quote, 'deeply upsetting please stop you're creeping me out', but damn it all he was trying. "Let's see how long you last, hmm?"   
The homunculus simply tilted his - her - it's head at him slightly, Gaster never cared much for keeping track of genders, it was so much easier to just shrug his shoulders and refer to everything as little more than a potential project, but he had promised her, and so yet again he was making vain attempts for nobody but himself.

His mind had begun to wander just a bit as he watched the thing, fully expecting it to melt or burst or disintegrate, and yet... it remained. The homunculus yawned sleepily, and Gaster inspected the apparently slightly more lasting subject more closely. It was thin, painfully so, but skeletons were used to that kind of thing and he wasn't altogether surprised. It had technically never eaten in the few months that it had been gestating. And he would continue referring to it as an it, because although most humans seemed to have obvious signs as to their gender, this one was less... helpful in those regards. It was equipped, certainly, but he'd be damned if he knew which one it was supposed to be. Perhaps he had gotten some of the chromosomes mixed when it was still in the tube and this was the result. Gaster frowned, watching as it rubbed its eyes. Even though it wasn't a real human it still resembled one, and those things were unsightly.    
  
"You are... still not dead," Gaster said in mild surprise, picking a few strands of sopping hair up between his phalanges and letting them fall in their face. "I must admit, I am relatively pleased with the result. Of you not liquidating yet, obviously. You're a ghastly little creature, but I suppose you'll do. So you'd better not develop sudden leprosy or suffer total organ failure, I put a lot of work into you putrid sacks; if you die I'll make sure to feed your remains to the next homunculus, understand?" He jabbed a sharp finger into their bare chest.   
  


They responded by giggling and squeezing his finger bone with a wide, happy smile, gurgling undeveloped sentences from the partially formed neurological connections only beginning to fathom what a nightmare they had been born into. Gaster's spiteful glower slowly faded as the creature, pulled his hand closer to their chest, and he felt an extremely  unwanted warmth begin to blossom in him.

 

Stars and stones, was the filthy thing trying to develop a bond with him?

 

"Stop that," Gaster slapped their hand away coldly, earning a surprisingly venomous glare from it. "You can do that after you get acquainted with your new monster. Touch me like that again and I'll surgically remove your arms and feed them to you."   
  


They responded with another light titter of laughter. Odd. They probably didn't even understand what he was saying, it was just a physiological response in reaction to danger.   
Funny. He knew of a similar monster who tended to laugh in the face of danger.   
  
_... I think I have a new experiment. _

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

"... You want me to  _ what _ ?" Sans looked at the doctor as if he had grown a second head, a bottle of infused ketchup dangling from his fingertips as he stared at his...well...not really his father, but definitely his creator.  Sans wasn’t sure about the details, but Papyrus and himself didn’t originally start as weapon experiments, rather they were originally...something else. Some other purpose, but after something happened, they had been transformed into weapons, or at least they were supposed to be.

 

Ultimately, however, it didn’t pan out, and so the pair were sort of left to their own devices. Gaster had been around, teaching them in a distant, harsh manner, but when the two were old enough they half left, half were kicked out. Neither monster ever referred to Gaster as ‘father’ or ‘dad’, not even Papyrus. They knew he had created them, but there was never that close family tightness that most others had, maybe that’s why they were so messed up. Papyrus craved companionship and Sans was...damaged. He knew he was damaged, as feeling emotions of any sort was...difficult. Most of the time the world was grey, with the one bright light in it being Papyrus. He had learned to fake his smile, a plastic grin that he wore everywhere, coupled with biting sarcasm, puns and snark had kept all but his brother at arm's length. Well, his brother and Grillby...but that was a different story.

 

He refocused on his not-father and that plastic grin widened a little, Gaster didn’t particularly seem bothered by the lack of paternal acknowledgment, though even he was, Sans, didn’t really care.

  
That said, they weren't considered failures, at least not by Gaster's definition, both monsters had gained sentience and identities, this was very good. They had formed souls and had emotions, though one was under-expressive and the other was over-expressive, but that wasn't a major issue one way or another.    
  
They could even perform magical attacks, though the power of these attacks was as different as day and night and he still wasn't sure which one was more powerful.    
  
So no, they weren't failures...in fact what he had learned from creating them had gone into making the homunculi...so in a way, that little..  _ thing  _ sitting in his lab right now could be considered Sans' sibling.    
  


Brother?

  
Sister?

 

He'd have to choose one.   
  
Not because Gaster was particularly interested in the details, not at all, but rather because of Sans.  Sans had the correct mentality to fight, but lacked motivation of any sort instead preferring to sleep for days on end, another thing he had in common with the newest creature. But for all of his failings and however much he managed to disappoint Gaster, Sans had one weakness that spurned him to action.   
  
Papyrus.   
  
If Papyrus was ever in danger, Sans suddenly became very motivated.

 

In fact, the only reason that Sans even had a job as a sentry, a sentry that did nothing and slept his time away, was because he needed the money to pay for their home and food. Sans would put minimal effort into something, but the key was that he would still put effort into it...if it was for Papyrus.   
  
Gaster was hoping to harness that particular character flaw now.   
  
"I made a homunculus, I want you to meet it." Gaster didn't go into details, it wasn't because Sans wouldn't be able to understand the medical jargon and science-speak, oh no. Sans was blisteringly smart, in fact, Gaster suspected he was at least as smart as Gaster himself, but rather the shorter skeleton simply didn't care. He was indifferent.    
  
"And why would I do that, doc?" Sans leaned against his post, a rifle hanging limply from his arms.   
  
"Because I will pay you." And besides… it’s your sister.”   
  
Sans' brow furrowed, the shorter monster immediately suspicious, and watching the doctor as if he expected Gaster to suddenly melt into a puddle. His sister? That was stretching it wasn’t it? Sans had assisted with homunculi before, and he sure as hell didn’t consider them his brothers or sisters, so what the hell made this one different?

 

He pushed the thought aside and refocused on the bigger issue; the money. He always needed a bit more, so Gaster offering him cash in exchange was more enticing than meeting a so-called ‘sister’, but Gaster never did anything without a reason.

 

This was...suspicious to say the least, it was paying him to go on a walk to the lab and look at some not-monster that probably was drowning in its own fluids by now. So why was Gaster so keen on having him go?

 

Then again, Homunculi usually didn’t last more than a few minutes outside of their fluid, so either way, this would likely be over quickly.   
  
"Why?" The small skeleton demanded with an uncharacteristic frown to hide his piqued interest.   
  
"Because," the scientist responded honestly, "It's the only way to motivate you." He didn't bullshit Sans, he was blunt and direct, it was something the smaller monster could appreciate. In spite of their awkward relationship, Sans knew that Gaster wouldn't lie to him, he may not be the nicest monster around, but at least the head scientist was an honest one.

"Welp...my shift is over in three hours-"   
  
"Now, Sans." Gaster interjected impatiently, "I may not have time. I need you now, I'll double your bribe."   
  
Sans grinned and shouldered the gun.   
  
"Then why didn't you say so in the first place?"   
  
If Sans could sleep on the job and still hold down full time and get paid, then he could leave it for a period of time and not get into any trouble.

 

"Fine… follow me."   
  
The two monsters crossed the hamlet, heading towards the sprawling labs located in the east end. The ramshackle buildings were much sturdier with monster magic and combined with human ingenuity, their structures were at least standing against the creatures outside their walls, regardless of the almost constant repair needed.   
  


For now, anyway.

 

Sans decided almost immediately that he wasn't being paid nearly enough.   
Shortly afterward, he decided that there wasn't enough money to make him care about the little...  _ thing _ .

 

The homunculus was utterly silent throughout the entire inspection, and with every passing moment that crawled by Sans only wished that he could leave faster. Emotions were not necessarily something that he had a problem with; rather, the opposite. He felt next to nothing unless he was either drunk or high or both, the most he could manage even on the best of days was a mild irritation.   
  


Staring down at this crawling, pitiful little thing...   
  


Sans felt something.   
  


… He didn't like it.

 

"Do I even get a choice?" Sans glanced up to the stooped figure of doctor Gaster.

  
"Of course you do, Sans," Gaster scribbled on the notepad as the homunculus struggled to push itself onto its bare haunches, whimpering when it fell over but unexpectedly, no matter how many times they fell, they just kept getting back up off the concrete floor. "You can say no, obviously. You'll still be compensated for your time, you can go back to your duties..."   
Sans opened his mouth and started to speak before Gaster continued.   
  
"Or," Gaster baited him further, peering down at him from behind the clipboard. "You could take the homunculus for your own and bond with it."

  
"And why the fuck would I want that?" Sans deadpanned, dropping all pretense. He was getting irritated, but at least it was a feeling. Still, it was just irritating, he could already suspect what Gaster had in mind.   
  


"Let's face it, Sans..." the too tall scientist cracked his back, his wide smile never fading.  "We both know that you suffer from emotional impairment and severe dampening of your conscious temperament."

  
"Yeah, you sure did a  _ great  _ job with that. It's not a problem," Sans shrugged coolly, his grin back as the ever so slight hint of frustration had already faded. "Don't exactly need emotions, it's not a big deal, doc. No fear, either, 'member? Nothin' gets under my skin."

 

"Hm. Yes," Gaster stood and placed his clipboard on the desk, watching from the corner of his eye sockets as the homunculus had managed to stand and was tripping over themselves as they toddled around in eager but short-lived circles. "I mean, what would you even want them for? You're practically only monster by very basic definition. What love do you even have, Sans?"   
  


Sans's eye sockets began to narrow, ever so slightly. Ever so dangerously.

  
"But, of course, I'm sure that doesn't bother you," Gaster continued in an almost gleeful tone, staring at the small creature as it finished stumbling around and began to curiously inspect itself with its fingertips. "Nothing bothers you, hmm? No worries. No cares. No wants. No fear. No pride. No happiness."

 

"No  _ hope _ ."

 

Still, Sans did nothing, remaining utterly silent as the homunculus tenderly prodded themselves with their fingertips and giggling gently from it, their thin eyes dancing around as they explored.   
"How long does a monster last without hope, Sans?" Gaster asked softly, his tone slightly more gentle than before, the bitterness evident just underneath. "We both know what happens, how excruciating it is. For everyone left behind as well. And considering your already painfully low health, well..."

  
Sans stood unblinking as the homunculus shakily toddled toward him, ever so slowly learning to get the hang of their legs, ecstatically showing off their walking ability; the thing was almost as tall as he was, and Sans made sure to drink in the sight of the probably soon to be dead creature.   
  


"What would happen to poor Papyrus?"

 

_ Aaah. There's that violent rage. _

 

Sans forced down the sudden urge to fucking grind him to dust for even mentioning the possibility that his perfect little Papyrus could ever dust, and just like everything else, within moments the feeling was gone and he was left feeling absolutely nothing but cold and empty. Something familiar and comfortable, at least. Sans forced a socially acceptable grin at the watching doctor, knowing full well that he was being played. But he was so sleep deprived that he didn't really care that much anymore.

  
"So this little thing is supposed ta keep me alive, huh?" Sans shrugged once. "Heh. Doesn't look like much of a meat shield ta me."

  
"I couldn't care less what you do with it," Gaster said flippantly, crossing his arms. "Just as long as it keeps you alive via the soul bond, from that point on it's your property."

  
"So what am I supposed to tell it when it starts to ask why it's not a real monster?"   
  


"I doubt that it will have any questions, Sans," he gave a small shrug with his shoulders, already gathering the tools that they would in order to assist Sans with the ensuing soul bond, trying to hide just how eager he was to see if the homunculus survived this, if Sans could even manage to pull it off. The human lookalike seemed to be thoroughly entranced with the shorter skeleton, never taking their eyes off him as it stood before him, eyes wide. "Come now, it's just a homunculus. Don't be afraid of it, it's not like it can even live on its own, let alone start frisking you for answers."

  
"... Frisking," Sans repeated numbly as the little homunculus reached out and tried to touch his face. He swiftly grabbed their hand out of habit, and they just continued to stare through thin eyes at him before they tilted their head a bit, a soft, almost... sad smile growing on their pink lips.

Then it actually managed to surprise him again and entwined their thin fingers through his phalanges.

 

This thing shouldn't even be able to  _ think  _ for itself at this point, it should have been weeks before it could be useful to a monster, maybe that was why Gaster had been so eager to get him here. The little creature just kept touching him, their small smile having grown to a gigantic, goofy and gleeful smile. Sans realized just how tight his grip was and released them, unbothered by the sharp, angry marks on their wrist. The homunculus seemed just as unconcerned, taking the opportunity to carefully, clumsily, slowly, but ever so gently entwining their fingers into his hand.

  
And then they brought both up to their face and hugged his skeletal hand, their smile kind and soft, and once again Sans felt something that he neither liked nor understood.   
"... Frisk," Sans stated quietly as the green glow from Gaster's precious resource-fueled machine clicked and whirred to life. "Heh. Dunno why you like my bones so much. You got some of yer own, don'tcha?"

  
"Bones?" 'Frisk' repeated, causing him to jolt again. It was too early, Sans had overseen the other homunculus growths, it shouldn't be talking this fast at all.... "Buns - buness? Boons? Bonehs. Bones? Bonebones. Bonebones?"

  
"Yeah," he shrugged it off, attempting to smile. "Bonebones are sweet treat, kiddo. Maybe I'll let ya have a taste later."   
  


Frisk responded by chirruping 'bonebones' over and over again, their eyes heavily lidded but happy.   
  
Sans wasn't sure what to think, or what this feeling was, or even how to make it stop.   
And that, of all things, made him even more afraid than the living nightmares that he was going to have to go back to slaughtering in the morning.


	2. Parasite For Sore Eyes

0-0-0-0-0

 

Sans was not altogether happy with what he had brought home.

Frisk was not altogether happy that she had been brought home in a potato sack.

Papyrus, however, was absolutely _ecstatic_.

 

Papyrus was an odd but welcome sight, Sans had to give him that. Whereas Sans was accustomed to wearing only the bare (heh) bones minimum in Sentry attire, his black slacks and paper thin tan long sleeves covered by his slightly too large coat, his brother was the polar opposite. Sans learned early on that wearing a ton of armor was a surefire way to get eaten, or worse. Light on your feet meant harder to hit, and he was fine with that, even if his adornments weren’t necessarily flashy. Papyrus adored clothing from the more gaudy human fashion trends, often wearing bright, clashing colors that drew everyone’s attention whether they wanted it or not. This time it was vibrant blue pants with a neon orange sleeveless shirt (where did he even get clothes like that?) revealing his rib cage slightly, his long hanging and smudged apron reading _Kiss the Cook_  with the last word scrawled over in red marker, replaced with _Handsome Skeleton_. Sans felt his grin growing regardless.

 

“Sans! Oh my Gosh she’s so CUTE!” the tall skeleton squealed, “What’s her name? What’s your name, little one? My name is Papyrus! It’s so good to meet you! It’s okay that you’re speechless, I completely understand, my magnificent image _is_ very stunning. You appear to be drooling a little bit, but that’s okay too! I’m afraid I can’t help it if I’m incredibly handsome, I do have that effect on people, it’s expected to find yourself suddenly salivating in the presence of the Great Papyrus. You can introduce yourself at any time you’d like! Are you shy?” Papyrus continued cheerfully, on his knees before the homunculus. He kept his large hands in his lap, his smile wide and eager. “Come now, don’t be afraid, there’s nothing to fear with the Great Papyrus here! Nyeh heh heh!”

 

Frisk only gaped up at him, eyes wide. Sans had chosen that name, ‘Frisk’ because of his own sense of humor and laziness. Not that the girl really understood that, she probably thought her name was ‘bones’. It was all she had really said from within the sack the entire walk home.

 

“... Sans is… Sans.”  
“What’s up, bro.”   
“Sans I just realized something.”   
“Yeah bro.”   
“Sans why is she naked.”

 

Sans only grinned and held up the empty potato sack, earning an odd look from Frisk.

“I mean, I’m not so cruel as ta make ‘em walk around the hamlet naked as the day they were born. Which is today, coincidentally.”  
Papyrus opened his mouth to speak, more closely inspecting the creature now that his excitement wasn’t clouding his thoughts, and his brow bones furrowed for a moment.

 

“Born… today…?” Papyrus seemed relatively confused for a split second. “Sans, is… is this person…?  
“Doc made ‘em, yeah,” Sans threw his worn duster onto the coat rack beside the door, taking in the fresh scent of his brother’s cooking. Granted, his spaghetti had never been… _good_ , necessarily, but it kept them alive, and Sans was only too happy (metaphorically speaking) to continue allowing his brother to cook instead of putting in the effort himself. “It’s a homunculus, bro. Starting today, they’re part of the family.”   


Papyrus was only silent for a moment longer.

 

“... That’s _great_ news!” he whooped, scooping the naked Frisk up in his arms, oblivious to her terrified squeaks. “Welcome to the Skeleton family, little friend! I’m happy to meet you, we’re going to have the best time ever!”

“Alright bro, I think they get it,” Sans said evenly with a hollow chuckle, but at least it wasn’t completely empty. Seeing his brother like this always made the faintest of echoes rumble in his soul. Sometimes the smiles almost felt genuine around him. “Heh. Yeah, welcome to the house, Frisk. Try not ta burn it down.”

“Oh, _one little_ massive three story kitchen fire and I _never_ get to live it down,” Papyrus tutted playfully, setting Frisk down and ruffling her hair, which was greeted with another confused look from her. “Well, don’t just stand there! Dinner is almost ready - Sans, why don’t you find the poor thing some clothes? She looks freezing!”

 

Frisk responded with a cocked head and a curious expression before adding ‘Bones?’ helpfully to the conversation, which drew a screech of delight from Papyrus, who scooped the startled Homunculus up into his arms.

 

“OH YOUR FIRST WORD! YES! BONES!” Frisk looked distressed as Papyrus swung her around, her fingers clawing a little at his bony phalanges, whines escaping her throat. Her blood-red eyes were filled with anxiety and a bit of fear, tears beginning to bead in them, the little one sniffling.

 

Papyrus however quickly noticed and set her down on the table, stroking her head slowly in an attempt to calm the little brunette, and it was helping… a little but she kept repeating that word, ‘Bones’ over and over while reaching for Sans.

 

Papyrus was not at all discouraged.

 

“Sans, I think the Little Monster wants you!” Sans was baffled, sure Papyrus wasn’t exactly wrong; the little squirt was technically a monster… technically. But it wasn’t a monster in any practical sense and sure didn’t look like one; it looked like a human. But here his younger brother was, just… accepting it, _accepting_ that this human-looking artificial life was a monster.

 

Was part of this family.

 

The shorter skeleton felt a bit of a smile crease his features, she made Papyrus happy… that was reason enough to keep the little munchkin around, even if she was a bit of a pain.

 

“Yeah… alright bro, I’ll pop over ta Grillbz, see if he can give me a hand. Kid’s gonna need some stuff I’m not sure about.”

 

Papyrus frowned slightly, worried that his brother would end up spending all his time at the bar and end up drunk and forgetting the baby in a sink somewhere. But… he had to admit that his elder brother was right; they didn’t have any baby clothes and the one nearby person who would be equipped to assist was Grillby. Sure, there were humans that they could ask… but monsters generally tended to stick to themselves, and if he showed up with a human-looking creature he couldn’t ensure that things would go his way. No, he preferred Grillby’s. Totally not because he was planning on getting absolutely plastered. Not because he desperately needed the accompaniment of the fire elemental and various liquors to feel something.

Not because he viciously wanted to forget what he and the little homunculus had just gone through.

 

Because none of that bothered him. He wasn’t bothered, he didn’t care.

He physically couldn’t.

 

The fact that something still didn’t sit right within him was more than a bit upsetting.

 

Frisk didn’t seem to look any worse for wear from the experience though, and Sans wondered if they - if she - would even be able to remember it within a span of days. But homunculi weren’t even supposed to be able to speak until their first few weeks, and this one had been doing it immediately. Maybe Gaster’s programming methods left something to be desired, Sans was too lazy to ask.

 

“Alright kiddo, in ya go” Sans picked up the sack and Frisk made a face, clearly she disapproved of it, and Papyrus agreed… but it wasn’t like they had much of a choice, they didn’t have any clothes that would fit.

 

“It’ll only be until we can get you dressed,” Papyrus soothed, “Then you won’t have to ride in that nasty bag again, okay?”

 

Frisk looked up skeptically at Papyrus, an adorable pout on her pudgy features.

 

“Bones?”

 

“Yes, exactly.” The tall skeleton ruffled her hair, and the little one seemed satisfied. With an unsteady gait, they half walked, half stumbled across the table and tumbled into the bag with a soft, cute grunt, Sans gathering it up and slinging it over his back like… well… a sack of potatoes.

 

“Sans!” Papyrus scolded, the tall skeleton pointing with a wooden spoon, “Be more careful, you have a child in there, not apples!”

 

The shorter skeleton looked appropriately mollified and rubbed his neck, while chuckling weakly.

 

“Heh...sorry bro, I’ll be more careful,” and with that, he left before Papyrus could scold him more, heading out of the house and across town.

 

Ebott was very, very lucky.

 

It was located at the base of a mountain, with a massive forest on three sides, and the closest body of salt water was hundreds of miles away. This was important, because those parasites came from the sea and bodies of water attached to it, this meant that sea travel was all but impossible and going near the water was an almost assured death. The creatures however couldn’t stand excessive heat, even an overly hot summer could kill one that didn’t have a host, so the farther you were from open water bodies, the safer you were. But the monsters and humans had put this knowledge (that had come at a very high cost) to work in creating filtration systems for their water, which involved boiling it at three different stages, as well as mechanical filtration.

 

Ebott fortunately had both a ready water and heat supply, thanks to the mountain, though they were still very careful about filtering the water. High walls protected their city, with armed guards patrolling it, with shoot-on-sight commands.

 

They were taking no chances.

 

In addition, the city had been divided up into sectors, each with its own gate system that could be shut to help contain any infection that may pop up, though it had thankfully not yet been needed. Quarantine was always a very real possibility. All citizens underwent mandatory firearm training, survival training, first aid training and had to own at least a small gun, again for self-defense purposes.

 

Trade still happened, and to facilitate this, trains would pass through the cities at regular intervals, carrying goods and supplies. Ebott, owing to its exceptional natural resources and safe location, had quickly ballooned into a trading hub for the entire region, one of the biggest in fact, which also made it a juicy target for the creatures.

 

Gods help them if the creatures ever learned how to fly.

 

But so far they were sticking to walking. That said they could leap shocking distances, and could run faster than one would think, in addition to being unexpectedly durable. However their lack of intelligence kept them from organizing, though they would still attack in swarms, it was more out of coincidence than any concerted strategising. Hopefully.

 

Sans, out of habit, snagged his revolver from the closet, shoving it into his shoulder holster and throwing on the duster, before heading out, the kid shifting around in the bag. They were actually pretty well behaved, considering they weren’t even a day old; they even had teeth, which was a relief because Sans had heard stories of teething human babies - not fun.

 

Motorized transportation wasn’t really a ‘thing’ simply due to the fact that it wasn’t a good use of resources, so people walked everywhere, or took the electric street cars that the labs had cooked up after the city had exceeded its own walls for the third time. It had been attempted, taking the electric transportation outside of the protected city walls.

They had been scraping up passengers all night after that.

 

Sans hopped on one and headed over to the old commercial district, where Grillby’s bar and grill was located. It rumbled and bumbled, noisily clattering over the steel tracks. Sans got a few odd looks, but mostly everyone kept their eyes averted. Anybody with a couple of brain cells knew better than to bother a Sentry, even one as lazy and apathetic as he was. Every once in a while, Frisk poked her head out of the bag to look around, scarlet eyes wide with wonder and amazement at the people passing by, or to take in the smells and sounds.

 

She didn’t yell or scream or cry out, but she would occasionally whimper and duck her head back into the sack’s opening now and then, like a turtle hiding from something that scared them. Frankly, Sans was relieved that they were so quiet, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if they started crying or fussing like some other human or monster babies.

 

Then again, she was a bit… big for a baby? Was baby even the right term?

 

It was true that they were a baby homunculus, so from a homunculus standpoint, baby sounded right, but compared to other babies she was pretty big, and very intelligent, even able to repeat words… or rather _A_ word, though she didn’t know the meaning.

 

Sans guessed that meant it had accelerated aging ahead of normal homunculi schedule, but how fast would it actually age? Would its mind and emotions lag behind? Would he end up with some sort of adult with the mind of a toddler? How was he supposed to handle that? Sans didn’t know what he was doing, he doubted Papyrus did either, and Gaster wasn’t equipped to take care of this thing. It was his job to produce them, not rear them. The previous surviving homunculi had been quickly pushed onto their monsters, this Frisk thing was the first DT infused homunculi in a long time to even last more than a few moments outside of the tank. Sans frowned, his mind abuzz. Sure, the prototype homunculi weren’t entirely useless, but they were still… creepy. He wondered why Frisk didn’t look like they did.

 

All these questions were making his skull ache and fouling what passed as his ‘good mood’, the girl however only contributed a soft murmuring of ‘bones’ and ducked back into the bag as the streetcar came to a stop.

 

The smells of food hit him the moment he exited the streetcar, Monsters could make food out of magic, which hadn’t been affected by this weird magic dampening, and was fortunate though it was likely due to the fact that creating magical ingredients was a trivial matter so even if it was impacted, it’s not like anyone would even notice. So this ensured that they didn’t need many crops or animals to feed on, which greatly reduced the space they needed.

 

Probably one of the reasons why monsters were faring better than humans were to be entirely honest.

 

The kid shifted around again, head peeking out of the top of the bag. He had to go to Grillby’s before any more strange looks were launched his way. He was breaking any laws, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t acting suspicious, and Sans was aware of how the situation looked.

 

“Alright Kiddo, we’re almost there.” Sans promised, the pair walking across the stop towards the restaurant with the owner’s name lit up in scarlet.

 

“Bones.” Frisk agreed and withdrew back into the sack, as Sans pushed the door open.

 

Immediately, the short skeleton felt some of his stress just melt off, Grillby’s was something of a haven, run by the tall fire monster. He was very protective of his daughter, some would say even overprotective, no sign of a ‘misses Grillby’ though and Sans wasn’t about to start poking around for an answer.

 

He had enough sense to know that something had probably killed her, but what or how wasn’t Sans’ business, he’d let his friend reveal things when it was time. Sans knew better than to pry open old wounds. Just because he didn’t really ‘feel’ things quite like others did, he knew what pain was and what it looked like; the only time that he had inquired about Grillby’s wife had been… thoroughly upsetting. He was not partial to repeating that particular experience ever again. Sans instead took in a deep breath through his nostril bone, a practiced but not altogether faked smile settling on him.

 

The place, by design, was softly lit with blinds drawn, making look like permanent dusk inside the little place, smells of food filling the air, along with various alcohols. A single, slowly rotating fan drew smoke and customers alike towards the center and up to the bar, a thin veneer of ashen perfume wafting gently through the air and summoning him in a friendly, familiar manner. The patrons called out Sans’ name as he entered, the shorter monster was a well-known regular who somehow managed to keep piling more and more onto his tab without having to pay. There was even a private bet running amongst some of the regulars over exactly how much Sans owed. He overheard one couple tittering that his tab consisted of an entire dragon’s hoard of gold.

 

“Is that the bag full of money you owe me?” Grillby joked, automatically plucking a bottle of infused ketchup from the bar fridge and dropping it in front of him. “It’s about time, Sans. But I’m afraid that’s barely going to make a dent in your tab.”

 

In truth, the fire elemental had long since given up any hope of Sans paying his tab. But the reason Sans got away with it is because the short monster had been the only thing to keep Grillby’s head on straight when the barkeeper arrived in Ebott. Lost, forlorn and clutching a young child… he had been totally lost and drained of any will to live.

 

Sans was remarkably blunt and struggled with even basic empathy, yet his directness and an uncharacteristic concern for Grillby and the child had helped Grillby get focused, get his life together. Sans had been the elemental’s first friend, helped get the business running, all while taking care of his own little brother.

 

Grillby owed him… a lot. Sans was all too happy to brush it all under the rug. The sooner he forgot about that dreadful night of having actual emotions was something that he would rather forget altogether, even if Grillby disagreed on the matter.

 

“You wish, hell _I_ wish, but nope; it’s got somethin’ the doc gave me.” Sans plopped the potato sack down on the counter, Grillby’s interest immediately piqued when he saw the bag shift and move. A few moments later, the top opened, and the fire elemental’s burning eyebrows shot up when a little face emerged; that of a child with oddly sunset-red eyes and an untidy mop of damp brown hair. She _peeped_ like an excited baby chick, eager and hungry, doe eyed and curious.

 

“... Bones?”

 

Grillby stared for a second as the bag’s opening slowly slid down the child who looked around with an innocent curiosity, his brain struggling to process what his eyes were seeing, as Sans nonchalantly drank from the ketchup bottle.

 

“...That’s a human.” Grillby finally managed to speak, “A _baby_ human. Sans… _why_ do you have a baby human in a bag?”

 

The bag had slid down around Frisk’s waist, the homunculus looking about in delight and curiosity at her surroundings, her hips shifting from side-to-side in excitement. She bounced up and down eagerly, her mouth slightly agape in wonderment, practically bristling with a sudden amount of energy.

 

“It aint a human,” Sans explained quietly, and took another mouthful of ketchup as the fire elemental stared at the skeleton in confused annoyance. Sans was getting quite a number of odd looks at this point from both human and monster patrons, but being a Sentry had its benefits; namely, nobody wanted to fuck with someone’s who’s job requirements listed ‘practically suicidal’.

 

“Sans, you may not see them but I _do_ have eyes. That’s a-” Grillby reached out and pulled the little one back from the edge of the counter, “A human… a _naked_ human.” Grillby added after glancing into the potato sack. “Sans, why are they naked.”

 

Sans burped and leaned forward, looking entirely too smug for his own good.

 

“Naw, it ‘aint a human, looks like one, but it aint. See, you know those creepy grey things Doc occasionally chucks outta the lab?”

 

The barkeeper visibly suppressed a _shudder_ , those things were very quiet, very strange and _very_ disturbing. They were grey, bald, sexless things with a humanoid shape and vacant eyes. They had no magic, no… no _soul_ , neither monster nor human. They were also barely sentient, able to follow simplistic orders but nothing overly complicated. Homunculi they were called, and Gods above Grillby had no idea why the reclusive doctor kept churning them out. Grillby had watched helplessly as one of them got nearly flattened by an electric streetcar, stars and stones the _screams_ it made, it wasn’t human, it wasn’t monster, it was a living _nightmare._

And then the thing had gotten back up and gone back to work.

Grillby had kept a sleepless eye on those things ever since that.

 

“Yes, what about them?”

 

The short skeleton nodded to the girl who was reaching for Grillby, blood red eyes glimmering with both intelligence and innocence.

 

“Yeah well… she’s one of ‘em.”

 

Grillby was stunned, looking at the child once more who was trying to crawl across the bar, still naked. The barkeeper quickly plucked the child up, while Sans ignored them both and took another deep swig from his bottle.

 

“Stars and stones Sans, couldn’t you have at least _dressed_ them?” The skeleton gave an indifferent shrug, grinning as the little homunculus giggled and rubbed her face against the fire monster’s neck, not at all afraid of the magical flames. Again Grillby was surprised, although not entirely unpleasantly so.

 

“Actually Grillbz, that’s kinda why I’m here. See, I dun’ have any clothes for kids...or lil girls, so I was kinda hopin’ you could help.”

 

Grillby snorted and glanced up and down thoroughly at the child, then back at Sans, this… _could_ be good for his friend. Sans was well known for his… _issues_ regarding emotion, perhaps having a child around could help him; after all  he was able to function better around Papyrus, so who’s to say that this little homunculus wouldn’t evoke those same feelings? On the other flaming hand, it wasn’t that Sans had trouble expressing emotions, necessarily; quite the opposite, Grillby knew personally that the short skeleton was an excellent mimic of emotions, in another time he could have been an actor. No, what troubled Sans was his nearly total incapacity for experiencing emotions themselves, his apathy outweighed everything else that wasn’t Papyrus. It was a lot to consider all at once, and Grillby found himself worrying equally for both of them.

 

The fire monster sighed and curled an arm under Frisk’s bare thighs, cradling the child against his chest, his mind made up.

 

“Alright, come upstairs. I have some of Fuku’s old clothes in storage.” Sans briefly considered asking why his best friend had his daughter’s baby clothes kicking around still, but decided against it; it was probably part of how he coped with his wife’s loss. Sans wasn’t going to pry.

 

The pair made their way upstairs, Grillby leaving one of his employees to watch the cash register, though the regulars could be trusted not to do anything and anyone who wasn’t a regular wouldn’t get away with any form of mischief. Grillby was lucky in those regards; Ebott was a nice little hamlet, where it was commonplace for just about everyone to know everyone else. Being a hermit was a good way to get yourself killed these days.

 

Grillby’s bedroom was small but not claustrophobic, everything had its space and spot, it was quite comfy. The fire monster had given up the larger room to his daughter, understanding that young girls needed their space and Fuku seemingly appreciated it. Grillby shook his head and focused.

 

The pair had a bit of an odd relationship, idly the short skeleton wondered if losing her mother at such a young age had anything to do with it, or Grillby’s extreme protectiveness. Most kids would have probably chafed under such tight control, but Fuku seemed to thrive and even enjoy it. How anyone managed to apparently delight in the strict control and protectiveness was up in the air to Sans.

 

There were probably issues there, but that wasn’t any of Sans’ business, so again he ignored it. It wasn’t like there was anyone in this time and age that _didn’t_ have issues. Maybe it was a poor excuse, but an excuse was all he was really willing to bother trying for at the moment.

 

Frisk was sitting on Grillby’s knee, the fire monster moving with practiced ease to shift around in the closet, while still holding the peaceful little homunculus in his free arm. Sans sat on the bed, watching with mild amusement, but the fire monster didn’t seem to be having any problems, somehow managing to balance the girl and searching for something stuck in the closet.

 

“Hey Daddy, hi Sans… what’s going OH MY _GOSH_!” Fuku had come in, curious about the noise, her snowy eyes falling directly onto the little homunculus who tilted her head cutely.

 

“Bones?”

 

Fuku flew across the room _squealing_ in delight and gathered Frisk up into her arms before Grillby or Sans could stop her, but curiously Frisk didn’t seem to mind the sudden noise and attention; she beamed and just tilted her head once more, as if trying to happily make sense of the green fire girl in front of her.

 

Seeing that the little homunculus wasn’t stressing out, Sans allowed himself to relax just a bit. Grillby looked mildly annoyed but only mildly, as Fuku giggled and held the child close.

 

“Oh Sans, he’s so cute!” the green fire elemental gushed, teasing Frisk’s nose, Sans caught the confused look from the child, or maybe it was just his imagination? Well whatever, it was too much of a hassle and he’d rather have Fuku’s hand-me-downs then have to go out and buy a whole new wardrobe for the kid. Less work that way.

 

“It’s a she,” Sans corrected lazily, “Her name’s Frisk.”

 

Fuku looked confused for the briefest of moments and glanced back at the naked homunculus, who chipped in with ‘bones’ a couple of times. Sans was wondering if she only knew that word, or if she had picked up others and that one was simply her favourite.

 

“But Sans, girls don’t have…,” Fuku’s glinting eyes drifted downwards to the obvious, but the skeleton gave a wave with his bony hand.

 

“She aint human,” He was getting sick of explaining this, “She’s a homunculus, a kinda artificial monster made by doc Gaster. So who knows, _maybe_ it is a girl, she seems ta like it.” Frisk giggled happily as if in agreement. Sans’s insides did something strange again, and he wasn’t sure what to attribute it to. It seemed to occur whenever Frisk made that noise. He wasn’t sure how to handle it. “Seems ta respond to being called a girl, and she ain’t really complainin’ about it. Who knows, maybe tomorrow she’ll decide she’s a boy, and switch back the day after. Whatever’s good with th’ kid is good with me. Y’know?”

 

Fuku frowned for a moment, looking down at the human-looking monster, then back at Sans, he was always pulling jokes so she wasn’t sure if he was serious, but judging by the fact that her Dad was currently digging through the closet and pulling out boxes with her old clothes in them…

 

“Huh… so, you’re here for new clothes?” Fuku sat and began to tease the little homunculus’ nose, the girl chirruping and trying to catch the finger with two small, pudgy hands. “What’s her name?”

 

“Yup, we jus’ got ‘er today,” the skeleton nodded and finished his ketchup, “She grows fast so she’s prob’ly gonna run through her stuff pretty quick, an’ her name is Frisk.” He watched Fuku curiously, as the little fire elemental pulled Frisk back into another hug.

 

Maybe the reason Frisk was okay with the elementals was because they were warm?

 

“Mmmm…” Grillby held up various outfits and tried to judge the little homunculus’ size against what he was holding. Sans had figured Grillby’s protective paternal instincts would kick in, doubly so if Fuku ended up liking Frisk, which was almost a given. Anybody that knew Grillby on a personal level knew Fuku, and anyone that knew Fuku closely knew that she was more than a little flirty. And for as close as Sans was to the pair, ‘flirty’ might have been a gratuitous  understatement. But they were good people.

 

This meant that Sans could dump the little homunculus with the female elemental and be certain they’d be safe, Grillby really liked kids so he’d make sure they were taken care of.

 

“Alright Sans,” Grillby stood, pushing a box towards the skeleton, “These clothes should be good, I’ve taken out everything too small.”

 

At that moment, Fuku was dressing Frisk in a blue-and-purple striped shirt and panties, with a pair of socks and denim overalls next to her, and a small pair of dusty black shoes. The kid would look pretty damn cute, Sans was certain of it.

 

“I really appreciate this Grillbz,” Sans stood and shook his friends hand, “I ah, I aint all that sure what I’m doin’ here. I really do appreciate you scratchin’ my backbone.”

 

Grillby grunted, and gave his head a shake; that much was readily clear. But Sans was willing to admit it, though the short monster did a good job with Papyrus, so why was he worried? Then again, Papyrus was a bit older than Frisk was. Gaster had provided them with money, food and shelter but the actual child rearing had been done by Sans, again the short monster’s emotional muteness came in handy as he didn’t get caught up in the situation, simply living day-to-day. The short skeleton absolutely knew how to make the best of a situation.

 

“Well, Fuku likes her,” The paternal fire elemental allowed, “So you can bring her by if you need a break, I’m sure the interaction will be good for her as well. They can have a play date.”

“Cool. I’m pretty sure that the kiddo likes Fuku too,” Sans grinned at Grillby, watching as the elder monster stretched and cracked his back, letting off a noise like cooking popcorn.

“What makes you say that?”  
  
Sans only pointed behind Grillby, where a blushing Fuku sat with Frisk in her lap, the embarrassed emerald elemental completely and utterly silent as Frisk curiously and giddily felt up her chest.

 

“... Oh _hell_ no.”

  


0-0-0-0-0

 

Sans sighed quietly, letting the cigarette burn a hole into the dark night sky. He took a long, hungry drag as he sucked down the smoke, his eye lights watching intently for any sign of movement in the wrecked streets.

 

He wasn’t particularly fond of Sentry duty, but damn did it pay well.

 

Considering how high the turnover rate was for this particular job, he wasn’t altogether surprised. It was a cold night, Sans could tell that much from the icy bite in the air and the fog from his breath that came in every sigh, but he felt neither wind nor chill.

 

Sans had been sent out on a special mission, one that had him mildly curious, though he was getting paid extra on top of his already handsome salary. Being a Sentry wasn’t easy at the best of times, in addition to guarding the walls, he also had to leave the safety of the city every night and enter the old city ruins and clear out any parasites or creatures he found. They were durable but stupid enough, driven by hunger than any higher intellect and with the sounds they made it wasn’t like they were particularly stealthy either. Sans considered that a high point, at least. The things never were all too stealthy, which meant less work tracking them down, and the element of surprise was always welcome on his side.

 

The old city was a human settlement that had suffered a massive fire due to some sort of failing fifteen years ago, the fire and heat had attracted the creatures; the survivors had done pretty well to fight off the first few years of infections and Parasites, but that last one had been the straw to break the camel’s back. It wasn’t so much a struggle as it was a burning massacre. Ebott was rebuilt at its doorstep simply because the amount of resources were too high to ignore, but stronger safeguards were put in place. There had been fires since but nothing like that night. Both monster and human had worked together to preserve Ebott Hamlet, and every free pair of hands was needed to keep the things at bay. Sans shook his head quietly. And Ebott shad been one of the luckier cities. This old place must have been a real sight to behold back in the day.

 

But now it served as a nesting ground for the creatures, and had to be cleared out now and then. Ebott was fairly far from any water supply attached to the ocean, so the best theory anyone had about where the parasites were spawning was in the old sewage system. As a result, nobody went near the treatment systems or the filtration plants, rather it was largely the old commercial and residential districts. The industrial district would been  cleared out once every six months or so, but only by a very well-armed and organized group. The most common of these groups was the Canine Unit, an elite fighting force made up of individuals who had nothing left to lose. Doggo was blind in one eye but had savage skill with his knives and rifle, Great Dog and Greater Dog were the last members of their litters, the rest having been wiped out and so the pair were out for vengeance. They used heavy rifles but were capable in close-range combat and finally was Dogaressa. She had once been a happy canine with a husband named ‘Dogamy, the pair had been hoping to have a litter and start a family. Sans fondly remembered his time meeting those Sentries for the first time, bundled together like a bunch of lost puppies in Grillby’s pub.

He still denied cheating at poker, and would continue to do so until proven otherwise.

 

Then the parasites infested Dogamy, and Dogaressa was forced to mercy kill him. It… it broke her inside, and now she used a massive axe, refusing any and all forms of firearms and would wade into the creatures swinging with wild abandon, as if caught between blind rage and suicidal despair. Dogaressa was a fearsome fighter, one that even the other Sentries knew not to screw with. Whereas before she had been genial and tender even at the hardest of times, the canine monster was now a vicious, merciless slicing machine. Sans had witnessed first hand her brutality when it came to the Parasites, and was in no mood to ever get between her and her soon to be deceased target.

 

“Come ‘ere, pals…” Sans gave a low whistle through his teeth, keeping his eye lights swiveling around through the dark. “Here, puppies. Where the hell are ya…”

 

This group had been sent out to clear out the industrial district again, but they hadn’t returned so Sans was sent out alone to figure out what happened to them. Not that he had a problem with being on his lonesome; truth be told he preferred being by himself. Lower likelihood of casualties when he didn’t have to worry about watching someone else’s back. If he kept telling himself that then maybe that weird feeling in his stomach would leave him be and let him focus. Sentries were never supposed to be gone for this long without contact, and the slowly growing feeling in his gut told him that this wasn’t going to be an easy mission, but he did his best to ignore it. He disliked working in groups personally, he found they just got in the way; no, he was best on his own - that way he could move unimpeded and didn’t have to worry about the safety of anyone else.

 

Once more he checked his revolver, more out of habit than anything else. Firearms were, as a general rule, semi-automatic. This was to preserve bullets and prevent wasteful shooting or spraying targets. Not all settlements had this rule, but Ebott did and as a result their sentries could boast impressive marksmanship. Don’t fire until you see the whites of their many, many eyes.

 

The place was filthy, buildings half-destroyed and some still vaguely smelled like ash and smoke. Normally Sans would have welcomed the scent, it tended to remind him of his favorite pub… this, however, left a dark, foul tang on his magic tongue. The Ruins smelled as decrepit as they looked, half demolished skyscrapers rotted and jagged gouging the air like a mouthful of shattered teeth. This place had already been mostly looted of anything worth taking, but that didn’t stop outcasts, scavengers, exiles and idiots from trying to set up a home here, or picking through the city’s carcass in hopes of something overlooked.

 

A soft moan caught the skeleton’s attention and he glanced up, seeing one of those _things_ hobbling out of a broken doorway. Its face was slack, as if the skin was being stretched downwards, the bottom jaw entirely missing and instead replaced by wriggling tendrils that were tipped with broad pads, each one bearing a small comb of claws, the tendrils reaching out listlessly. The height of the creature didn’t help matters. Sans was already short as it was, but this thing was taller than most humans or monsters he’d seen. Easily, it could have stood heads over the king himself, but the abomination was stooped and bent, as if crippled by both age and weight that left it looking decrepit and pitifully slow. Sans knew better than to judge by appearance though. They were never, ever slow.

 

The throat was of course distended, as with most creatures it didn’t chew but swallowed its prey whole, or tore off chunks of it and stuffed it down its throat. It was hunch-backed, a bony ridge connecting the spine and skull, letting the neck sag from the weight of the parasite housed within. Its skin was ashen, and it smelled disgusting, as if it had been rolling in a swamp. Its eyes were covered by a white film, utterly useless but instead strange fungus like tendrils had erupted from around the eyes, each one tipped with a glowing tip that wobbled around, Sans suspected they were sensitive to both light and movement though if the creature could discern what it was looking at was another question entirely.

 

“Boy,” Sans fingered his silver revolver with a slow grin, careful not to make any sudden movements. “Finding the right prescription glasses must be a real pain in the ass for you, pal.”

 

Its arms were spindly but with broad palms and even longer fingers, the flesh worn away to reveal clicking bone that made for crude though effective claws, Sans knew that these things had shocking striking power, unexpected of their thin limbs, and it dragged itself as its belly sagged downwards, sloshing with digestive fluids and whatever else it had stuffed down its gullet. Many of these things tended to be cannibalistic, he didn’t particularly _want_ to know. It was supported on a pair of thick legs, so it likely had exceptional leaping power, it sort of looked like a hideous, mutant kangaroo. Still, it didn’t seem to notice him, and if Sans could slip away without wasting ammunition he’d take the opportunity given. He wasn’t on a culling duty, this was a scouting mission.

Still, he had a distinct, powerful _urge_ to put the thing down, like he usually did when he saw what those parasitic pukes had done to whatever poor host they inhabited.

 

He silently thumbed over the gun’s hammer, the loaded cylinder feeling almost heated in his phalanges as bone ticked and clicked over silver. It barely made any noise at all, certainly much quieter than his aloud mockery of the thing, but this ticking seemed to grab its attention. Sans’s soul pounded in his chest as it swiveled its entire body toward him, saliva dribbling from the gaping mouth. It splattered across the ground and _sizzled_ as a ravenous rumble emanated from the beast, and Sans matched it with a practiced grin. He doubted even with all those extra eyes it ever saw him draw.

 

A resonating _crack_ of gun shot lit up the night, the flash of gunfire temporarily illuminating the dank alleys, and for just a brief moment Sans could have _sworn_ that he saw…

He wasn’t sure.

Something.

Some _things._

 

Lurking just out of the corner of his vision, dangling from the concrete alley walls, blended so perfectly with the shadow that even were he to cast a light on them the dark still would hide them. He repressed a rare shudder and glanced over the remnants of the parasite’s head, gushing like a crimson fountain onto the cracked paved stone. He frowned as he witnessed even the blood begin to bubble and froth upon contact with the air, taking a single step backward to prevent it from leaking into his shined shoes. Instead it seeped into the earth, draining away as if the ground itself thirsted for the foul liquid. Sans slowly began to replace his revolver in its leather holster, but paused.

 

There again was that bizarre, unsettling feeling in his gut, and this time he followed it.

 

A sharp sidestep was all that saved his life.

 

The creature that he had just shot bounded through the air merely centimeters from where he had been a moment ago, oblivious to Sans’s blatant stream of obscenities. Ghastly pale blood streaked across the ground, leaving broiling paths and unspoken, unknown languages shrieked into the night as it skidded to a halt. An entire chunk of its head had been blasted off, broken teeth revealed in hideous clarity to the air, and Sans barely had a moment to register the living nightmare as a bolt of burning ooze was spat at his head. He whipped to the side so hard that his neck cracked, the foul ichor splashing across the end of his duster and searing it right off. Sans scowled in irritation, leveling a glower at the abomination that dared pounce at him.

 

“Do you have _any idea-_ ” Sans fired off another round, which the thing ate hungrily, leaving it with another less portion of a head. “-just how fucking _hard_ it is,” the silver revolver slammed backwards from the kick as a final bullet blasted the remnants of its head clean off. “... To find a jacket in _my size?_ ”

Sans stood over the now hopefully deceased creature, breath coming in short, vicious bursts. He wasn’t used to these damnable things taking so many bullets just to keep them down. He hadn’t even _seen_ one that looked like whatever hellish Kangaroo Jack fetish had hatefucked a squid, and he wasn’t in the mood to repeat the experience.

 

“... Goddammit that was my best jacket,” his grin slowly returned, and he gave the thing one last _kick_ as it spasmed and jerked, finally falling still. “I expect you ta pay for damages, pal. I got this from some good friends, they’re a real tight _coat_ erie.”   
The cooling creature had the decency to not respond.

“... Hey _fuck you_ pal,” he shrugged, reloading his revolver with precious ammunition. “Guess that joke was just for me, then.”

 

He had forgotten the most important part of hunting these things, however briefly; look for the gold. It was a simple rule that came from the fact that the parasites released a yellow, sticky fluid into the brains of the creatures, so when the head was blown open, it sprayed golden goo and bones.   
  
He took a slow breath and muttered a curse, dumping his precious jacket on the ground and heading away from the body; the jacket now stank like those creatures, and they would be looking for what caused the noise. So the last thing Sans wanted was to give them a trail to follow, with luck they’d find this dead thing and eat it, maybe even try eating each other. Wait for the freaks to completely cannibalize themselves into extinction. That would be nice. For him, anyway.

 

The skeleton ran his thumb over the silver barrel, the divots comfortably reminding him of home. Papyrus greeting him back gleefully after a tortuously long night of Sentry duty with open arms, picking the stocky skeleton up and hugging him tightly while swinging him back and forth with joy. He wondered why it happened to be that memory, and not the night that he got the then pristine silver gun from Doctor Gaster. He didn’t care either way. The fond memory of his brother sparked something in his chest, one of those rare ‘feelings’ that everyone else seemed to have so often. He wondered what it would be like to come home to both his eager brother and the little homunculus awaiting him. Frisk bouncing around happily, chirruping _bones bones bones_ as Papyrus warmly welcomed him home. It was such a strange sensation. Like a warmth was spreading through his chest and into his marrow, heating him from within, but not uncomfortably so.

 

He’d experienced drug highs with a similar sensation. However, like all of those he’d tried, it wasn’t quite the same. He let out a quiet sigh as he inspected the kangaroo-esque creature, giving it a solid kick with a _thump_ that felt muffled by the night. It didn’t move an inch, and Sans felt a bead of sweat begin to trickle down the back of his spine.

… _Where the fuck is the stupid thing…?_

It was supposed to have a sac, a bulbous or gross looking tumor that housed the parasites, all of these things did. They always did, and once you killed the parasite the host was soon to follow.

 

“... Okay, fun’s over,” he let out a humorless chuckle, carefully rolling the thing with his foot, fingerbone never leaving the trigger. “Show me yer sack, baby. Spread ‘em for daddy.”

 

The sack was buried in the neck, he had almost missed it the first time, and he felt a bit of worry well momentarily in his gut. Normally after possessing a host, the parasite would include a fleshy cocoon over its body as a weak form of camouflage and to help shield it from the natural elements. But this one was buried deep, ensnared around the spine, with a heavy layer of skin over itself, almost like it had learned from the others.

 

But that was ridiculous, these things had effectively no intelligence to speak of, no intellect, they were driven by base needs; reproduce and eat and nothing more. They didn’t even possess any form of communication, for them to be figuring out better ways of hiding themselves, that was ridiculous.

 

Right?

 

He shook off the feeling and fired into the neck, golden goo spraying out onto the ground as the creature released an agonized, high-pitched screech. Sans pumped another two rounds into it, just to be sure before ejecting the spent casings and reloading the gun.

 

Shit he had already wasted too many bullets already, how many did he have left? The skeleton took quick stock, he had his survival knife, some monster food ‘just in case’, and fifteen bullets left, enough for over two full reloads of his personal hand cannon.

 

A groan caught his attention and the skeleton grimaced, shoving the gun back into its holster and slipping into the darkness, shifting away from the terminated creature as he saw shadows starting to loom in the dark, illuminated by the moon. It would do him no good to pick a fight now, better to just slip away and try to find another way around. Something in Sans was suggesting the old treatment plant.

 

But that was ridiculous, not even the canine unit would be so stupid as to go there… right? That place was well known amongst Sentries, everyone with a will to live refused to go there. And, of course, the Canine Unit’s last recorded message had been a report of being near that dreadful place.

 

 _Gods_ he wished he had a cigarette.

 

As expected, the various mutated _freaks_ made their way towards the dead body. There was no real rhyme or reason behind any of the mutations, it was like they just started changing, creating these dead-end transformations to accommodate the parasite’s never-ending need to feed. The only two common traits were the distended bellies and the gaping, sagging throats. And those weren’t even really mutations as much as they were a side-effect of the creature’s over-eating. Stuffing the belly with anything they could eat and tearing the throat muscles until things just sort of… slid down into the brew of juices stored in that sagging stomach.

 

The creatures began to devour the deceased creature, but they weren’t doing a good job of it; he rarely if ever saw them chew, they more just ripped and yanked at their prey until they tore something free, then would shovel it down their gullet before going back for more, it didn’t matter what might be attached to their meal, be it clothes, metals or even weapons and armor. They didn’t actively seek out non-organic objects, but more than once Sans had witnessed them swallow a can of food whole, without bothering to open it first.

 

The sentries all agreed that this trait of wholesale consumption was exploitable, they just weren’t sure how to do it. It was revolting to watch, he felt his stomach churn uncomfortably, but he was used to the sight enough that he expected it to happen. Still didn’t make witnessing the parasitic cannibalism any less gross to behold. Sans silently shifted away from the gathering, treading quietly over broken roads as he slipped stealthily through alleyways.

 

Where in the blazing blue _hell_ were the Canine Unit?

 

“Can’t pick up a pager or a damn radio,” Sans grumbled angrily to himself as he pushed himself over a rusted, moss covered overturned vehicle. “Ain’t that hard, just answer the fuckin’ thing.” He was getting irritated, and he welcomed the feeling, it was something that he could experience at least; but, as always, the sensation was gone in an instant and he was left feeling hollow. Maybe it was because he was a skeleton. Most of them were hollow. He wondered why Gaster and his brother didn’t have this problem. Maybe it was because he was just painfully flawed. Sans shook his head as he slipped under a bridge made of a twisted remnant of what might have been an eighteen wheeler. The closer he got to the old treatment plant, the quieter it grew. He could easily hear and see the creatures milling about before, crawling over debris and buildings and stumbling blindly through the streets.

 

And now it was absolutely, eerily silent as the grave.

At least, until he heard the gunshots.

 

He jerked his head upward with a _crick_ of his neck, heading towards the sound immediately. He doubted that it was any scavengers stupid enough to come into the Ruins of the city, but he wasn’t taking chances. He scurried over another shattered car, sliding across the hood and whipping out his revolver with a practiced grin. It was about time that he’d found them.

 

“Heyya, mutts!” Sans called out as he rounded the corner, passing the torn down gates of the treatment plant. His gun in hand and soul pounding in his chest, he was eager to just go back to the Hamlet with them. It would be nice to settle down in Grillby’s pub and have a few (dozen) drinks, pretend not to cheat at poker and relax after a long night. He was looking forward to it, quite a bit. All he had to do was back up the Canine Unit and go home. Simple.

 

Unfortunately, he found the Canine Unit.

 

Sans skidded to a halt as he stopped a few feet away from Doggo, who held his rifle in shaking hands, firing at nothing. Sans stared at him for a split second, taking in the sight of the battered monster, a bleeding and limping Dogaressa not far away, howling and swinging her trademark massive axe at thin air, the glinting gold inlay of her lost husband’s face printed into the side flashing in the dark.

 

“What the fuck is going on?” Sans managed to blurt, head whipping about in search of the rest of the Sentries. Doggo’s head snapped toward him, his eyes bloodshot and filled with full blown _panic_ , both blood and a thin trail of dust leaking from one of his eyes.

“Sans?” he gawked at him in disbelief. “ _Shit_ man, go! Just fucking _go_ , get out now! Get back and warn th-”

Doggo really didn’t have much time to finish his sentence. Sans knew, at some level, that he should have noticed, should have known, should have seen _something._

At one moment, Doggo was standing in a weary crouch. The monster he had known for years, had played cards with, had drank with, had been introduced to the canine family with and fought with. The same monster who had been alive one moment, and completely missing his head the next.

 

Sans backstepped immediately in shock and refusal, unable to fully register what had just happened. One second he was there, and the next his head looked like it had been _bitten off_ , a grotesque chunk of flesh dusting apart and crumling to the ground, nothing left of him but his family’s rifle and his Sentry’s crest. Dogaressa _howled_ incomprehensibly, swinging her axe violently and smashing it into the ground, through the air, and Sans wasted no time in firing wildly at where she was flailing, desperately hoping against hope that he could hold off whatever had just deprived him of one more friend. Sans’s eye lights strained painfully, and he forced a burst of magic into his left eye socket, seeking his invisible assailant.

 

The very moment magic flared into his eye socket, the split second that he witnessed something that _should not be_ , it was as if something in his mind snapped.

 

That awful, half incomprehensible _idea_ that had taken form of flesh burned itself into his eyes, scorching his mind and scouring his every thought with foul, hateful intensity. He knew, on some level, that the ground rushing up to meet him was not a good thing. His bones felt both cold and numb, only a bare fraction of his consciousness kept him staring helplessly at the last member of the Canine Unit. Or rather, the last member of the Canine Unit as he knew them.

 

He saw Doggo.

He saw Greater and Lesser Dog.

He saw a lot of things he wished he hadn’t.

 

Pulsing, dripping organs twirling and squishing through its entire body slithered both in and out, pumping hearts of too many creatures that were dense and translucent simultaneously. Sans felt vomit pouring through his mouth and he choked, unable to move, unable to _breathe_ as he fought vainly not to witness any more of this foul abomination, impotently fighting against the hot, helpless tears of disgust and fear; intense, violent, painful, existential _fear_ stripping him of everything that made him functioning. But the organs that defied gravity and reason and _time_ pulled tightly at their connected heads, all of them watching in every direction at once. The...the thing was a huge, hulking, disjointed mess, organs clearly visible through fur that was pulled taut across translucent, pulsating flesh. Lesser’s dog’s head kept telescoping back and forth painfully, his face warping between mindless agony and consuming hunger, a strange golden fluid dripping from its jaws and a tongue that was covered in small claws, or teeth, protruded from its maw.   
  
Greater Dog’s robotic suit formed a crude kind of over-stretched armor, though the armor was never intended to hold such a twisted, massive creature, and the fluid it leaked seemed to… eat at the metal, corroding it away with a pungent, rank stench. Greater dog’s legs protruded uselessly from the middle of the chest, and his arms from the bottom of Lesser Dog’s neck, almost like… like claws? Greater Dog and Lesser Dog also appeared to be somewhat conjoined, fused at the base of their skulls, or the cheek, as when Lesser Dog shot out, Greater Dog’s head went with it, drooling uselessly, his jaws stretching and creaking open until the skin split as the maw was forced to widen more than it had been intended to. It happened like a shock of static, his portable radio scrambling with a twisted mockery of many voices speaking in unison in too many languages to make sense of, and it felt like the radio was burning in his duster pocket.

 

Doggo’s head formed the left side, both his eye sockets now vacant and instead long, fleshy growths had burst out of them to melt into a single large eye on the forehead, a massive pulsating mass that shifted about wildly, dripping a strange white mucus. More eyes ran down the left side of his neck, some looking distinctly insectoid, some confusingly reptilian, all shifting about wildly, none of them focusing on any one spot in particular. His mouth hung open, and while his head didn’t seem to be able to telescope, he more than made up for it with the long tongue that dangled free, a spear-like tongue with backwards-facing spines for dragging prey towards that gaping mouth.

 

And in the center of this… this hideous abomination, this walking nightmare, was the largest parasite that Sans had ever seen. It was twisting outwards, long golden tendrils having erupted from its body like a centipede to pierce the surrounding organs, pumping that horrid golden fluid into them.

 

The Canine Unit - the monsters that he used to know, his _friends_ , screaming in a horrible cacophony of despair and hunger, clawing with countless broken, disjointed limbs as Dogaressa was dragged helplessly into their gnawing, gaping maws.

 

“Please!” she screamed, and it sounded so faint and far away to Sans. “Where is it - please! Get up Sans!” Dogaressa yanked at the multiple paws and claws sinking into her flesh, the fear plain in her eyes as she cast her gaze to Sans. She was jerked to the ground and she sank her axe deep into the concrete with a massive swing, clinging desperately to the handle as she was dragged so powerfully backwards that her weapon left a huge gouge in the earth.

Sans tried to move, tried to speak through his mouthful of leaking gross, tried to _think_ ; all he could do was witness. He had never felt so weak, so helpless, so _terrified_. He wasn’t used to feeling anything at all, this sudden explosion was too much to handle - he was shaking, he knew it thoroughly, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t help her as she was yanked screaming away from him into the air.

 

And he watched as the woman who had once told him she was expecting a litter was ripped to chunky dusting pieces in front of him.

 

At some point the darkness took over, and Sans didn’t know how long he had been out. Perhaps it had just been a total overload that shut down his system. The jolt in his head was all that kept him conscious, the wistful lull of precious unconsciousness whispering him sweet siren’s calls. But the… _thing_ was still visible, still suckling and licking the meaty chunks and dust off of the ground with too many mouths.

 

The right side of the body bulged and ruptured outwards in a spray of dust and golden fluid, as a skull lifted out, a canine skull. Golden vines wound their way up it, like strangler vines engulfing a tree, muscle, skin and fur following behind until it formed a new head, a female head that screeched like metal dragging against metal.

 

The right ‘arm’ of the creature ruptured, and slowly formed into a broad limb, one made of three arms, Doggo’s, Dogaressa’s and Lesser Dog’s, wound together, paws and fingers rupturing from one another, as it slowly reached down and seized the axe, picking up the heavy weapon with a single, gruesome hand. Then the thing turned and _howled_ in the voices of his friends, his closest friends, this… multi-headed demon’s wail cutting through to Sans’ very soul, it was like the scream along could rend it from his very bones.

 

**_Come join the fun._ **

 

It was going to eat him.

That disgusting thing was going to devour him, grind his bones and eat his dust, and he could already see _his_ face reflected in the glistening, translucent flesh of the creature.

And then he felt a _yank_ in his chest, the same that he had felt when Gaster had put him and Frisk through the procedure.

 

_Right._

_I’m Sans._

_Sans._

_Gotta…_ _  
_ _Gotta get back to Papyrus. To Frisk._

_Have to get home._

_It will find them._

_It will find-_

_PROTECT._

_PROTECT._

_PROTECT._

**_PROTECT._ **

 

Sans _hauled_ himself off the ground as the abomination beyond full comprehension slammed a fist of too many fingers into the spot he had been only a few seconds before. Splinters of concrete and earth battered him but he shrugged it off, spitting foul out of his mouth, his tongue feeling numb as he forced himself away, firing off every single last bullet as he stumbled weakly away from the slow, gargantuan thing. It wasn’t even bothered by the extra leaking holes. The screams of the damned followed him the entire way.

 

Sans did the only thing he was able to. The best available option remaining. The only option remaining. The only smart thing he could think of.

 

He ran.

  


0-0-0-0-0

  
  
  
  
  
  


Sans felt nothing, almost all the time.

He saw, he knew sensation of touch and temperature, but emotionally he was constantly numb. He wanted to feel things like normal people.

This, though?

 

**_You’ll be with us shortly._ **

 

Sans sat half clothed in the shower, pleading to no one as he clung to himself, rocking back and forth as the cooling water rained down over him and dripped down his face. Filth and blood and dust circled the drain and he couldn’t stop shaking no matter how hard he tried.

Gods above and below, he was going to need to be a _lot_ more stoned before that awful, chaotic _shrieking_ was stifled. He drank heavily from the whiskey bottle, throwing his head back and chugging harder and harder until it was as completely drained as he felt.

 

Sleep took him soon after.

 

It didn’t make the memory of that screaming stop, though.

He wondered if anything ever would.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

“Bones?”

 

The word jolted him from his sleep, tearing the skeleton from a dream… a nightmare? He couldn’t remember, he didn’t want to remember… faces. God their _faces_ , pleading with him, screaming at him, begging for release.

 

Pain… Gods above and below so much _pain_ in those faces, in those eyes, it would haunt him for years after this, he was sure. The thought of shooting up was getting more and more appealing the harder he tried to shake it off.

 

Killing the human creatures had been far easier; they weren’t anyone he knew, and that allowed the short skeleton a safe emotional distance from all of it. Everyone was used to seeing mutated, hideously deformed humans lumbering about, and knew how to kill them easily enough. That didn’t stop them from being extraordinarily dangerous, but it did mean they knew how to end the things.

 

Monsters however had been immune to this infestation, because their bodies dusted before they could be fully absorbed, the only exception to this was potentially boss monsters, but that hadn’t been tested.

 

That… that THING from last night however? That had been a game changer, and not for the good. That horrifying… that…

 

“Bones.”

 

Sans’ eyes turned slowly to the left side of his bed and there he saw a face, a small round face with blood red eyes looking at him worriedly, chubby lips puckered into a pout, while little brown eyebrows were knit together in concern.

 

Frisk was dressed in footy pajamas, blue bunny ones to be precise, with a hood pulled up and a little carrot plushie clutched under her arm. Sans wondered briefly where she had gotten it. Papyrus, most likely. She was in bed with him, curled up next to the skeleton, her eyes searching his stunned face. Had he gone to bed alone? Had he even gone to bed at all? His mind was fuzzy. Gods he couldn’t remember… The little homunculus’ hand reached out and gently caressed his bony face, fingers ever so softly brushing him.

 

It wasn’t a sensation Sans was used to.

 

Humans, but human children especially were _terrified_ of him, he had learned that in human stories, death was portrayed as a skeleton, they called it ‘The Grim Reaper’. He was sad to say that he took an immediate liking to it, and tried to dress the part when he was younger, now that he was older he cringed whenever a picture came up of him dressed all in black. Granted, he didn’t necessarily look any less unwelcoming decked out in dark clothing and his duster. But at least now it was more out of necessity than any sort of ‘image’ he was trying to project. Thankfully, Papyrus’ didn’t tease him too much about his previous dressing habits. Anymore.

 

Grillby didn’t at all, it was a… touchy subject for the fire elemental.

 

Yet… this little one wasn’t scared of him, not even in their first meeting, nor now as she cupped his large bony face in her small, soft hand. Maybe it was because she was neither human nor monster.

 

_That thing was neither human nor monster._

 

Sans repressed the surprisingly violent urge to vomit, shuddering hard and clenching every bone in his body, curling into a tight little ball. His breathing was fast and shallow, his eye sockets empty, unable to do anything more than release a pitiful, weak whimper.

And still Frisk stayed.

 

She squirmed her way closer to him, and nuzzled her cheek against his own, eyes closing once more as an arm gently wrapped around his neck, embracing the short monster. She smelled like shampoo and laundry soap, and a little hint of tomato sauce, which revealed what she had for dinner last night.

 

Naturally, Papyrus would have treated her to Welcome Home spaghetti.

 

It was so strangely… natural, peaceful. Her body clinging to his, uncaring and unafraid of the world or him, her skin smooth, and her breath tickling his neck.The homunculus had barely been formed and already she was… being comforting, and he didn’t know if it was deliberate or not. Maybe it was due to the programming that all homunculi received in their early stages thanks to Doctor Gaster, or perhaps it was entirely instinctual. Sans was too exhausted to question it. A single thought suddenly pierced through the maelstrom of emotions that tormented the stocky skeleton, a like a ray of light banishing the darkness of night from the morning sun.

 

_… She’s very warm._

 

It wasn’t ‘Grillby fire’ warm, but rather… a more subtle, even more organic warmth. That mixture of monster and something else, a strangely alien yet simultaneously welcome tingle that passed through him where her skin pressed up against his hard bones.

 

As if she didn’t know what he had done.

 

As if she didn’t care that he had run away from his friends screeching, howling faces as they were melded together into a horrifying, twisted amalgamation of magic and pain.

 

Innocent, naive to it all, only caring that he was here, that he was beside her and safe. Sans didn’t know how to process that, but a weird and new emotion bubbled up from within him, a possessive almost angry one that wanted to keep her like this, to ensure that she would never see him as some kind of terrible, awful… murderer.

 

That he would just be that smiling face that she woke up to every day and murmured that word to.

 

“... Sans,” his voice came out in a cracked whisper, and she paused momentarily; but the next she was burying her face in his chest.

“Bone bones?”  
“Yeah. I’m made of those. Sans, kiddo. I’m Sans.”   
“Boness?”   
“Sans.”   
“Boons?”   
“Sans.”   
“Buns. Bonebonebuns.”   
“ _Saaaaaans._ ”   
_“... Boooooooooones.”_

 

Part of Sans was wondering if she was deliberately fucking with him, and why he didn’t mind if she was, the innocent giggle in her voice making him feel strange, a genuine smile blossoming onto his face.

 

Their conversation continued on like this for a while, just murmuring softly back and forth to each other in an almost nonsensical tone, nothing communicated but the gentle warmth of each other and their company in the dark.

 

And in that moment, Sans knew exactly what he wanted her to think of him as. It was a hungry emotion, longing, intense and assured belief that it was _right_ , that it couldn’t be anything else. He wanted so very badly to be her warmth, as she warmed him. There again was that strange feeling in his chest, in his soul, that odd _tugging_ that he had felt during the - … before he fled. But this was not fueled with terror or fight or flight instincts. He simply felt it, deeply.

It bothered him that he had absolutely _no goddamn clue_ what the feeling was supposed to be.

 

The memory of Gaster’s machine bubbled up to the surface as she curled against him, and he ruminated on that ghastly emerald glow that had pierced them both. Frisk had not taken it… _well._ Then again, no bonded homunculus did. Not the surviving ones, anyway. But Frisk had been something special. She survived the tank, she survived the bonding.

Maybe she could even survive this world.

 

If he tried hard enough, maybe he would, too.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“ _... Sans._ ”

  


0-0-0-0-0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay.  
> So.  
> I'm severely sleep deprived and everything that I write is coming out weird.  
> Prepare your buttcaverns.
> 
> ~ Aku
> 
> I have no excuse, I am simply a weird bunny :/
> 
> ~Monster Frisk

**Author's Note:**

> what the FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.
> 
> Okay so anyone who is wondering where the fuck A Beautiful Day is, i'm still working on it, but Aku and I are also doing this. I just have had issues with my computer and i've been lazy and having panic and anxiety attacks, oh isn't mental health fun? 
> 
> Okay so, yes; traps. I love me some traps. Now let me quickly say please don't start yelling about 'traps are transphobic', no...they're not. Calling someone who is trans a trap is transphobic, calling someone who identifies as a trap a trap is not. Chara and Frisk are super femmey in this, but they have dicks, but they're still femmey and will identify as girls and use female pronouns. 
> 
> I have no idea what we're doing with this story.
> 
> Sex. Lots of it.
> 
> Oh and I wrote some straight up Grillby x Frisk porn for those of you interested in it, it's on my ao3 page. 
> 
> Aku, save me from myself.
> 
> Oh and no we haven't forgotten about Companiontale, that's still going to happen, don't worry.


End file.
